Wake-up Call – Chapter 55

"I hope that one day you'll be able to forgive me," Colin says.

I slowly raise my eyebrow at him to cover my mounting panic as I let Power go off, because that's not something you want to hear from a superhero when you're an (allegedly) reformed villainess wearing civilian clothing while marching through the gun steel corridors of a partially underwater base—

[Tone solemn. Frown steady. Too steady. Colin Wallis—]

"Are you fucking with me?" I immediately retort without any undue anxiety that I definitely don't feel showing through.

"Perish the thought," he says with [precisely] the same solemn tone.

"… This is about me helping Hannah ambush you, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says as the clanking of his boots speeds up toward our destination.

"It was an objectively good thing! Those don't require retribution!"

"You painted my [entire apartment]."

"I raised your living standards, ended a monstrosity that should never have been, and arranged a de-stressing activity for you right after so you could better transition through the changes!"

"You threw away my frozen meals! I had to improvise a dinner for two!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up with a slight mechanical whirr.

"I left you the recipe and ingredients for a full-course meal with time to spare!" I calmly point out.

"You threw away all my dishes!" he unfairly complains.

"I saved you from Hannah thinking she's dating a man-child who never outgrew his college dorm habits!" I tell the unrepentant paper-disher.

And he stops so suddenly I overtake him by a single step.

A single step that gets me right in front of a door with a plaque that says, 'Interrogation Room Number 8.'

[Likelihood of Colin Wallis accidentally—]

Motherfucker!

"Did you just pull a 'me' on [me?"] I tell him, not at all on the verge of rabidly jumping on his neck.

Like, honestly.

I've got at least a ten percent of rabidness to go before I reach that point. I'm, like, totally cool, man.

[Lisa Wilbourn's uncharacteristic use of stoner—]

I will [end him!]

"Lisa, I do this for your own good," he says, lying through his teeth, "yet I still know the trial ahead will be harsh and unforgiving. So, please, I hope you have it in your heart to—"

"I will release all your anti-blinking tech on every single Tinker forum ever created on the internet so the nerdiest of capes can gang up and [mock you]—"

He opens the door and, before I can react, pushes me right through.

"Director Tagg, Lisa Wilbourn. Lisa Wilbourn, Director Tagg. There, my job is done, and may God have mercy on my soul—"

"I shall have [none—"]

Aaaaaand he just closed the door on my face.

OK. OK, breathe, Lisa, it's not like you to let him get one up on you. Yeah, this is just playful banter, and there's no reason at all to keep score. This wasn't an [actual] contest, so it would be silly to plan an elaborate, Goldbergesque revenge scheme when you have other, more urgent matters to attend to—

[Tinkertech beard-trimmer susceptible to subtle sabotage—]

Good sir, I am interested in your ideas and would like to subscribe to your newsletter.

"Sooo…" the local PRT's Director and one of the most powerful men in the city drawls out from behind me as I keep glaring at a metallic door that doesn't have the decency to burst into steel-melting flames. "I wasn't aware Armsmaster had an illegitimate child. Tell me, does he owe you anything in child support?"

…

Is it Christmas? Did Christmas come early? Have I been a good girl?

"I can honestly say I haven't seen a single dime from him in my life," I tell the wonderful man with an almost painful smile stretching my lips as I turn around to face him.

[Posture straight, disciplined. Military background. Maintains physical training. No changes to posture. Posture forced. Performative. Acting—]

"Ah, it's such a sad state of affairs when even our most shining beacons of heroism turn out to have feet of clay."

"He's listening through the other side of that mirror, isn't he?" I ask, pointing to my left with my thumb.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that Deadbeatmaster has been asked to collaborate in this interview."

…

I'm [trying] not to laugh.

"Miss Wilbourne? Are you indisposed? Can I offer you something? Tea, coffee, a written request for alimony…?"

"You're my new favorite Director [ever]," I tell him with eyes that feel like they should sparkle.

"Ah, then I guess the recruitment offer is going swimmingly well," he says, sitting back with a satisfied smile, pointing at the chair in front of his.

There are… a few worryingly tall stacks of paper on the grey table between us.

Oh, dear…

[Lisa Wilbourn's unwillingness to apply herself to bureaucratic procedures—]

No. No, fuck [you], don't even try to pin this one on me when you keep salivating at Dragon's papers on metamaterials. Also, the world is [large], I need to prioritize what I feed you, or we'll never get anywhere—

[Memorization of Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha relationship chart—]

That is vital information, I'll have you know!

[ViVid spinoff often considered—]

Look, it had a bath scene. Sometimes, the only thing a girl wants is to see Fate blushing cutely at Nanoha bursting into the bath, OK?

[Lisa Wilbourn's tolerance of gratuitous fanservice—]

I have [needs!]

[Taylor Hebert—]

Fuck you!

"… I think this is the first time I've seen a parahuman arguing with her power. Please, continue. I find it fascinating."

… I am not blushing.

[Lisa Wilbourn's capillary reaction to—]

That's it, no more material sciences for you. God knows what you actually want me to do with that.

[… Lack of information limiting possible actionable plans—]

OK, so you don't even know. Congratulations, Power; that's called having a hobby.

[… Anthropomorphizing of parahuman interface abilities—]

Yeah, welcome to the time-wasting club with the rest of us.

"OK, I think I'm done," I tell the wonderful man in front of me. "Sooo… do I take a seat, stand in parade rest…?"

He arches an eyebrow as he reiterates his chair pointing.

… I'm really putting my best foot forward in here, am I not?

Without acknowledging my mental faux pas, I slide the foldable chair back and sit down in front of the military man who Colin seems to fear being locked in a room with.

…

That sentence just made me feel slightly uncomfortable. Any input, Power?

[Anthropomorphizing of parahuman ability interfaces…]

Are you… [sulking?]

"Miss Wilbourn?"

"Sorry, I'm just having a mild existential crisis in here."

"… Is that something that happens often?"

"You would be surprised."

There's a brief silence until I manage to look up and find his pale eyes staring right at me with…

Glee?

"You, Miss Wilbourn, are a treasure trove," he says with the most genial smile I've ever seen that wasn't obviously fake.

"Am I? I mean, yes, of course I am."

"Not only are you a precious resource in getting me blackmail material on Deadbeatmaster—"

"Can I get your autograph? Pretty please?"

"Everything for a fan—but you could also provide insights into the interaction between powers and their wielders that some of our researchers would murder a particularly annoying aunt for—"

"If that is an offer, I must first state that I'm completely reformed, and I only agreed to come here as Lisa Wilbourn seeing as I don't know who that Tattletale person is. Also, give me a name, an address, and a medical history, and we can work on your alibi."

"Christmas shall be delightful this year. Speaking of gifts that keep on giving: you just [murdered] the Empire 88 and previously managed to turn the most devastating terror attack this city's ever suffered—a list that includes a [Nine] attack[—]into a net gain for our forces. Honestly, I don't know what I can offer you that will live up to what I expect you can in turn offer the Wards and Protectorate."

"Oh, you flatter me too much—"

"So I won't offer you anything," he says, his smile broadening just as my eyes narrow.

"You just dropped several places down my list of 'favorite weird people to talk to.'"

"That doesn't sound like a very flattering list to be on."

"[Everybody] I know is weird."

I can almost hear the indignation coming from the other side of the mirror. It allows me to regain my smile, and thus Colin unknowingly fulfills his parental duties yet again.

Except for the child support. Really, he's so irresponsible.

[Likelihood of Colin Wallis' eyelid twitching—]

Thank you, Power. You really know how to warm a girl's heart.

"What a coincidence!" Tagg says. "Everybody I know is weirdly prone to unexplainable bouts of blind rage!"

My smile freezes in place.

And I slowly turn to look straight at the middle of the one-side mirror, because of course that's where he will be, with his obsession with symmetry.

Then I, very slowly and clearly, enunciate, ['I shall have my vengeance.']

"Yes, they also, for some reason, tend to speak alone. I'm surrounded by tortured souls," he adds with the kind of beatific smile only one who knows himself to be the source of said torture can wear.

The yellow light overhead glints off his shiny forehead in the same way as it would off sinister glasses.

And I [stare.]

"Are you really trying to challenge me to a Thinker battle?" I ask, trying to look astonished at the mere prospect.

"Of course not, Miss Wilbourn. What I'm trying to do is recruit you into the Wards, something you already agreed to do, and thus I don't have to offer you any kind of incentives because Deadbeatmaster already pressured me into giving both you and your former teammates a general amnesty for all those crimes you committed under 'duress.' So, as it turns out, I'm not trying to recruit you but just getting to know my newest subordinate, which is turning out to be as joyful an experience as I had anticipated. Really, I think we should plan some kind of weekly get-together. A tea party, maybe."

"Please, tell me you lean more toward Tina Fey than the other one…"

He pauses for a moment and cocks his head in a disturbingly avian gesture.

Why is it disturbing, you say? Well, mostly because Power insists birds are velociraptors in disguise.

[Fossil record's evidence of plumage—]

I'm just fucking with you; no need to get so prissy.

[Crows' capacity to coordinate and keep grudges—]

I know! I read the same articles! I think it's more hilarious than creepy, and you aren't going to change my mind—

"Are you asking a government official to choose between Tina Fey and an elected representative?" Tagg asks as if he has had to fight his incredulity before doing so.

I arch my own eyebrow.

"Sir, I do not need to use Power on you to know where your allegiance lies," I tell him.

He briefly frowns.

"If I say it's not Fey, you're going to point at me and laugh, aren't you?" he asks.

I nod.

He smiles.

I can hear something thumping on the shaking mirror. Likely a helmet. Still being worn.

"OK, now that we know we're both somewhat sane—" the thumping just came back, and somewhat louder—how mysterious, "you know I'm not agreeing to get in the Wards just because Colin said so."

"Such a rebellious child."

"He [was] absent during my formative years."

"Despicable of him."

"Yes. I expect him to start making it up to me come Christmas."

"I'll make sure to remind him."

The thudding is getting louder. Huh, I was expecting Hannah to restrain him by this point.

"You're too kind. Kind enough that I won't fuck around like I was planning on, and I'll just lay my cards on the table."

"Oh?" he prods me with a curious eyebrow that is about thirty percent genuine.

"Yes. You already know the villain formerly known as Tattletale was instrumental in some quite dramatic changes in a city that had been stuck in an untenable holding pattern for years. Most of the major parahuman villains have been taken out of circulation, and most of the minor ones have… stopped being actually villainous or left the city. For entirely mysterious reasons."

"Certainly, I [do] already know."

"Good. You also know that the Undersiders are currently the most powerful group of capes outside the government's control."

"I do."

"And that I've—[Tattletale] has collaborated with some very powerful, heroic capes, achieving things that the [former Director] Piggot did not on that front."

"Definitely. I should give Emily a call, get her thoughts on that…"

"No. What you [should] do is ask yourself what do you get by putting me on the streets on PR patrols with the other Wards when I could be changing things."

"Things?" he asks in the fakest tone he has used since Colin pushed me past the door behind me.

"Plenty of things. But, of course, I don't expect you to buy into my claims without a test trial, so… let's say I do something for you. A tiny little thing that will show you I should be in a position other than mugger-puncher," I answer with an entirely dishonest grin that manages to hide my actual glee.

Tagg's eyes narrow even as he answers me with his own grin.

"And that tiny little thing would be…?" he trails off, inviting me to play my cards.

And so, contrary to any lessons in subterfuge I have ever learned… I do.

"An exclusion zone. Give me ten days to solve an exclusion zone."

His smile disappears.

And then, slowly, almost sinisterly, it's replaced by one that is brimming with far more sincerity.

***

I don't sign any of the meticulously stacked papers that all but scream Colin's involvement. Not today.

I am not a Ward. Not today.

But I met the Director, and he agreed to let me try as long as he's aware of every step of the plan. He has veto power on it. I can't independently use any assets.

I'll need to work with [supervision].

And so I cheerfully open the door out of Interrogation Room Number Eight and find Colin waiting for me with a despairing look.

He briefly looks over me at Tagg and nods at him before turning to walk back through the same corridor he led me through when I came in here.

I walk by his side, expecting some reproach about not following the script after he's worked so hard to sweeten the deal for me and mine, but he remains uncharacteristically silent until we reach the tinkertech elevator (and what a waste of resources that is) and he waits for the doors to close.

"Lisa…" he says, tiredly leaning on the grey wall behind him as the lights signaling the floors quickly change.

"Yes, Deadbeatmaster?" I ask.

He purses his lips in what feels like actual pain before slowly turning to look at me.

"Do you have any… Could you maybe conjecture…"

He pauses.

I tilt my head in a worryingly avian way.

"Yes?" I prod him.

And he sighs.

"Do you have any theories regarding [why] Tagg didn't ask [you] about his [damn wife and the fucking pool boy, and—"]

What follows is an impressive rant that Colin keeps up all the way to the van he used to drive me in here, with far more expletives than I've ever heard from the man.

I think the gist of it is that Tagg keeps bugging people about his wife's supposed affair with a pool boy that has, somehow, followed them to Brockton Bay despite them not having a pool in here.

Everybody fears being trapped in a room with Tagg when he goes on and on in excruciating detail about his conjectures and the miserable, joyless marriage he's trapped in while being [almost] certain that his wife keeps having acrobatic sex with a man younger than him.

Everybody, it seems, except for the Thinker seven that could've easily solved any hypothetical doubts regarding Mrs. Tagg's fidelity.

…

I think I'm going to like working here.

==================

This work is a repost of my most popular fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/wake-up-call-worm.15638/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 88 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).

Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Power's intrusions into Lisa's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance

Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, Xalgeon, and aj0413. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and helping me keep writing snarky, useless lesbians, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!